In, one. . . two. . . three. . .
She grabbed the ball and stood up, trying to let Tahira's teasing get under her skin. Trying to use it in some
way. Trying to let it make her angry. She turned around and looked at her nemesis.
"Come on, transfer girl! Serve!" Tahira said.
Ariana strode over to the baseline. She could do this. Schooling this girl would be so much fun. It was the whole reason she'd accepted this challenge in the first place. To get relaxed. Get focused. Get her head clear for what she had to do tonight.
Tonight she would avenge Briana Leigh's death. Tonight she would ensure her own future.
She tossed the ball in the air and served. It went way wide. Tahira laughed and tossed the ball back to her.
"Please, please double-fault! If you do I win this game!" Tahira sang out.
I will not double-fault. I will not double-fault. I will not double-fault.
Ariana served. Double fault. Tahira's friends laughed and cheered as Tahira tossed her racket in the air, end-over-end, and caught it.
"My serve," she said. "This is where you go down."
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Ariana felt the fight draining out of her. Her confidence was gone, fear and doubt creeping in to take its place. She wished she had never set yes to this match. Wished she could rewind her day to that moment on the quad and just say no. Because the last thing she needed on this particular day was to suffer the humiliating defeat she was about to endure.
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ONE TASK
Ariana was still feeling the sting of her loss as she walked through the modern lobby of the Palomar Hotel that night. The trendy spot was buzzing with activity even though it was past midnight, with twenty-something partiers having just returned from some fete or other, all drunk and messy and loud. Ariana had dressed to blend in a pair of slim black pants and a gray ballet-neck top, her hair pulled back in a low bun, zero makeup on her face. As she approached the long line at the front desk, she told herself to remain calm. If she allowed herself to grow impatient, if she snapped in any way, all it would do was make her easier to remember later, when the police started asking questions. She couldn't have that. She couldn't let it all fall apart just because of some stupid tennis match.She would take Tahira down sooner or later. That was certain. All she had to do was focus on that fact and she would be fine.
In, one. . . two. . . three. . .142
Out, one. . . two . . . three...
This was not the perfect situation. Not by any means. Tomorrow morning some maid would find the dead body of fugitive Kaitlynn Nottingham in a hotel room reserved under Briana Leigh Covington's name. She would definitely be interviewed. Someone might even recall having seen her in the lobby on this night. The risks were huge. But they were risks she had to take. Kaitlynn had threatened her very existence, so Kaitlynn had to go.
Ariana bit her tongue as a drunken twentysomething with too much stubble almost slammed into her. She slipped by him without a word and kept walking, telling herself that the crowd was actually a good thing. It would make the security tapes more difficult to sift through. When she finally reached the front of the line, Ariana smiled in a perfunctory way at the man behind the counter.
"I'm Briana Leigh Covington. I misplaced the key to my room and I'd like another, please."
When the police came to Atherton-Pryce Hall, she would tell them she had never been to the Palomar. That of course Kaitlynn had used her name and stolen her credit card number--the girl was always obsessed with her. Everyone knew this. It was documented in every newspaper article that had been written about Briana Leigh's father's murder.
The front desk clerk hit a few keys on his computer without a word. Then he studied the screen for a moment, and smiled. "Of course, Miss Covington. Room five thirty-two." He produced a key card and handed it over, already on to the next task before Ariana had
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even slipped it from his fingers. She smiled to herself as she turned away from the desk. Forgettable. Exactly the way she wanted it.
Knowing there were always security cameras mounted in hotel elevators, Ariana opted for the stairs. She took them slowly, deliberately, to the fifth floor, making sure not to get winded. Not like she'd been on the tennis court. So gaspy and blotchy and sweaty. She got a sour taste in her mouth just thinking about those last few games in the second, and what turned out to be the final, set. The serves whizzing past her, the volley that ended with Ariana stretched out on the ground, diving for a ball she could never have hit. Tahira and her crew were going to be merciless tomorrow. Damn Briana Leigh. Damn Kaitlynn. Ariana knew she could have taken the girl. She was sure of it.
It wasn't until she arrived outside the door to room 532 that Ariana realized she hadn't thought once about what she was here to do. Not since she'd left the lobby, anyway. She paused and shook her head, banishing all thoughts of Tahira and her triumphant, smug face. It was time to focus. This wasn't just some tiny errand she was about to run. What happened on the other side of this door was going to determine the course of her entire future.
Ariana's breath caught and she curled her fingers into fists, her right hand closing around the edges of the flat key card.
You can do this. Just get it over with. Get it over with and you'll be free.
But don't screw it up, or you're dead.